


The Best Thing About Christmas This Year

by mandatorily



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandatorily/pseuds/mandatorily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange gifts keep appearing to Lois seemingly out of the blue!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Thing About Christmas This Year

**Author's Note:**

> I blatantly stole some lines from Lois & Clark The New Adventures Of Superman, because that was my first Clois love & they seemed to work really well here, too.

Metropolis, Kansas  
December 24, 2009  
9:24 p.m.

It’s the bell that finally sends her over the edge. ‘Tis the night before Christmas and all through Metropolis not a creature’s stirring -- except for Lois Lane and the damn guy -- Santa, whatever -- ringing his damn bell on the damn sidewalk. “Merry Christmas, young lady.”

Lois grabs the bell from his hand, starts shaking it in his face. “Look mister. I’ve already donated, okay? Ringing this bell in my face is NOT encouraging me to give money to the needy kids. It’s encouraging me to stick this damn bell in your ear and see if I can pull it out the other side. Most people who are going to donate do. Those who don’t are not going to have their minds changed by a clanging bell and a foul-breathed Santa flinging happy, happy words in their faces. Okay?”

“What you seek is right in front of you. You only have to open your eyes.”

“I beg your pardon? Are you a fortune cookie or Santa? And *you’re* right in front of my eyes, Bozo! Rest assured, I’m a kinky girl, but I don’t have a SANTA kink for fuck’s sake,” with that she shoves the bell back into his hand, empties the change from both of her pockets into his tin, and flings open the door of the world-famous paper that’s turning out to be the bane of her existence. Heels clinking against the marble floor, she stalks to the elevator, repeatedly pushing the button that will take her down to the basement. Toe tap, tap, tapping in frustration, she curses her boss, Christmas, Santa and his eight crazy reindeer, his elves and pretty much everything in the known universe having to do with holiday cheer.

It’s t-minus two and a half hours until The Big Day. Midnight is often the time when things change. Cinderella’s carriage becomes a pumpkin again and Lois Lane officially becomes Ebenezera Scroogette.

Halfway down in the elevator she starts feeling guilty about manhandling Santa. He really was only doing his job, forced to work on the happiest of family holidays just like she was. She rolls her eyes at the thought. Only reason she’d even been around to be called into work is because she has no family to spend Christmas with. Or even any friends who remembered she existed. Her father’s on a secret mission -- what else is new, Lucy’s God only knows where and . . . and Clark left without saying goodbye. Her heart clenches so hard at that, she puts a hand against her chest, rubbing at the pain.

The regular family crap she could deal with, she’d been doing it long enough, but this was her first Christmas with Clark. Yeah, they’d spent holidays, birthdays, all kinds of special occasions together before, but never together, together. And she’d heard all too many times about how special his and Lana’s first Christmas together had been.

By the time she reaches her desk, most of her anger is gone and is replaced by something far harder for Lois to deal with -- longing. She stares at his nameplate, sitting across from her, mocking her. On the verge of flinging it into the wall, she notices a single, solitary maple donut sitting on a huge plate on the corner of her desk. It’s decorated with festive icing and even sprinkles. She knows for a damn fact the plate hadn’t been sitting there when she’d sat down. Jumping up, her chair making a screeching sound against the floor, she looks around, frantic, wondering how someone had managed to sneak up on her in the silent building.

Taking a deep breath, she laughs at her own paranoia. Of course it had been there all along, she’d just been too preoccupied thinking of ways to castrate Clark to notice it. 

She shrugs out of her jacket, sharpens a pencil, sticking it behind her ear, and starts the lengthy process of booting up her computer. Her editor called an hour ago, insisting Lois repost her latest expose -- the expose slated to be front-page news on Christmas -- because in the holiday shuffle someone had managed to delete it. 

After her initial freak-out, she’d managed to take a calming breath and remember that Chloe had a super sophisticated computer stashed in the closet at the apartment, so all she’d really have to do is boot the computer and log into the office network from home, preferably sitting in front of a warm fire with Godiva Chocolate Liqueur-spiked cocoa. It had been a good plan right up until she’d checked the closet and found that Chloe had taken the damn computer with her when she went to spend Christmas with Jimmy’s kid brother.

So that’s how she wound up being the only one in the basement of the Daily Planet late on Christmas Eve, staring down a randomly appearing maple donut and weighing the odds of eating it against possibly dying from poisoning. She’s finally decided on eating it when another damn donut appears out of nowhere, this time accompanied by a calming breeze against the back of her neck. She swats at her neck, jerking away from the plate. “All right. This is really starting to get fucking creepy. Who the hell is making fucking doughnuts appear out of nowhere? I mean, I’m not opposed to maple doughnuts, obviously, but random ones coming from nowhere is just a little weird. Even for Kansas.”

Of course no one answers, so she scoots back to the desk, pulling up her story and trying to get back into the flow, since this backup is from about four hours before she finished it. She still can’t keep from glancing at those damn doughnuts out of the corner of her eye. If someone had told her that LOIS LANE was going to spend Christmas Eve tormented by PASTRY she’d have drop-kicked their ass into the New Year. 

Another glance reveals something she hadn’t noticed previously. Next to the plate of doughnuts (there are now THREE!), are three white boxes, wrapped with silver ribbon. Each present has a handwritten note attached with her name on it, in writing she doesn’t recognize. 

Okay, so, she’ll admit it, she’s a pushover for gifts. They make her feel special and important, something she’d rarely felt growing up as the General’s daughter. And seeing her name attached to all that pretty is really making her want to open them, except for the fact that she has no idea in the world how they’re appearing out of nowhere. That part creeps her out just a bit too much for her to completely enjoy the idea of free stuff just for her. So, she does what Lois Lane does best, ignores them and focuses on her work.

The writing isn’t going as well as it had that afternoon. She’d been right in the thick of the story then, words flying from her head faster than her fingers could do the walking, but now she’s stressed over missing her first Christmas with Clark and just a bit freaked out over random gifts appearing out of the clear blue. She takes a deep breath, cracks her knuckles, absolutely DOES NOT look at the plate of doughnuts on her desk and pounds out the words like a fiend. After all, you can’t edit a blank page, so getting something written is better than staring at a whole lot of nothing.

She’s checking her notebook for a quote from a source when a large gust of wind blows it closed and another donut and package arrive. The doughnuts are starting to form . . . something . . . a shape, but she can’t tell what it is and they’re alternating in colors, some iced green, others red. The papers rustling gives her an idea and she thinks back to a time, not too long ago, when the Blur had made things appear in front of her seemingly out of nowhere.

The Blur. Showering her with Christmas gifts. Well, it could really only mean one thing -- she had to see him. But dammit. She couldn’t leave until her story was finished and she was nowhere near the fabulous piece she’d turned in that afternoon. She glared at the plate of doughnuts, bit her lip and dived back into the seedy underworld of holiday charity scams.

After a quick trip to the fax machine, plopping back into her chair, she realizes two more doughnuts, accompanied by presents have appeared on her desk. This is starting to get a bit ridiculous. And sort of sad. Clearly the Blur had taken her hero worship the wrong way. Yeah, at first she’d had a sort of THING for him, because he was noble, daring and pretty fucking SUPER when it all came down to it, but she’d figured out pretty quickly that loving someone like that would be nearly impossible. He’d always have to put someone else first, always be disappearing at inopportune moments -- and she’d already tried the hero thing once, with Oliver, and all that had given her was a dark spot on her heart that still wasn’t entirely healed over.

And then there’s Clark. Clark’s REAL. He’s good and honest and loyal . . . and not fucking here on Christmas and didn’t say goodbye, dammit, her brain throws at her just to interrupt her train of thought before her happy Clark thoughts get out of hand. She’d had a tendency to go off on Clark tangents lately, so it’s good that her head had started stepping in and putting her feet properly back under her, but still. He was all those things. And more. And maybe a bit absentminded or forgetful. But when you thought about it, those kinds of traits could be endearing, right? 

Regardless, though, Clark’s who she loves. Bone deep, mind blowing, flat-out loves. The intensity of her feelings for him scare the living hell out of her and she’s watched herself so carefully around him, hoping he’d never find out until she was reasonably sure he felt slightly the same way. Things were just starting to happen between them. They’d shared a few kisses, a few dates and then just as the lead-up to the holidays began, he’d gotten an assignment from Tess. Now, Lois is all for work coming before, well, pretty much anything, but he could have spared five minutes to send her a text message before he zoomed off on his story. She sighs, shaking her head. She’s becoming a sighing, slack-jawed, self-pitying wallower -- there are few things she hates more -- and she’s tired of allowing herself to DWELL.

Coming out of her brain fog, her hands are poised over the keyboard when another three maple doughnuts appear and right on their heels, as usual, a flurry of matching presents. She can’t help herself, she giggles right out loud, because to the best of her knowledge she thinks the doughnuts are forming a Christmas tree, and the small white packages arranged around the plate are the presents under that tree. It’s almost too cute to be believed and she’s happy she resisted the urge to eat that first donut because it really would have ruined the effect.

Stifling her laughter, she once again resumes her story, tying up a couple of loose threads she’d left hanging, adding a quote that she’d forgotten the first time she’d submitted it. When the wind rustles her hair, fluttering her skirt against her legs, this time she’s hardly even surprised to see that three more doughnuts and presents have arrived. Her desk is beginning to look quite festive, even alleviating a bit of her mood and she can’t wait to finish things up and thank the Blur for brightening her Christmas Eve.

One last quick trip to the printer, one final read-through and she realizes the story turned out even better than the one she originally submitted. She hits send, starts shutting down her computer and just as she’s slipping her arms back into the sleeves of her coat, wouldn’t you know it, another three gifts arrive and the final three maple doughnuts that form the tree. These are accompanied by a large white box, presumably large enough for said donut tree to fit in and a small white card. It’s simple, concise, and to the point -- Merry Christmas, Lois.

Well, that really helps. These gifts could be from SPACE ALIENS for all the clue that cryptic message gives her. And that pretty much makes up her mind. She’s leaving all this here and going straight for the Blur. Damn man has some explaining to do. And honestly, so does she.

A mixture of sleet and snow coat the streets of Metropolis and more than once Lois nearly busts her ass on the way to their phone booth. Grumbling, she clutches at random light poles, mailboxes and pretty much anything she can get a hold on until, finally, she sees the silver gleaming at her through the sudden downpour of sleet-mixed rain. Scrambling inside, she shuts the door and promptly feels like an idiot. Because it’s not like she knows his number or he has any way whatsoever of knowing she wants to talk to him and this is getting pretty damn inconvenient now that she thinks of it, they’re really going to have to work on their communication. She does the only thing she can think of -- she opens the door a fraction of an inch, shivering as the icy wind hits her square in the face and yells, “Help . . . Blur . . . save me!”

The Blur? Really? They were SO going to have to work on finding him a better name. Because that one? Really sucks.

She’s beginning to feel like the world’s biggest idiot when the phone rings, making her bang her head painfully against the door as she struggles to shut it against the wind.

“Hello?”

“Lois?”

“Oh, thank God, it’s you. I’m sorry for faking a rescue, but I really need to talk to you.”

“I’m all ears.”

“The gifts are lovely, Blur -- and while I have you here, you know that time we talked about finding another name for you? We really need to get on that. Anyway, I’m babbling--”

“Lois, you’re like a brook.”

“Funny. What I’m trying to say is this. The gifts? They were REALLY nice. But. I’m in love with someone else.”

“But, Lois--”

“No, no, you have to listen to me. I know we’ve had a lot of tension, chemistry, whatever, between us -- right from the first -- but the truth is. It’s Clark for me. It really always has been, I just never noticed until lately and even though he doesn’t know it yet and he left without saying goodbye and--”

“Lois?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing the babbling thing again.”

“Right. Sorry! What I’m trying to say, really, is can we be friends?”

He waits a moment before responding and all she can hear is his breath, hesitating on the other end of the phone. “I’m flattered, Lois, that you’d even consider something like that with me. We haven’t even officially met, after all, but the gifts I brought to you tonight were for someone else.”

“You brought me SOMEONE ELSE’S GIFTS?”

“No! NO! That’s not what I meant. What I meant was that someone asked me to deliver them to you, in that way. He asked that I not tell you who he is, that I let him tell you about his feelings for you himself, but Lois, I feel like I really need to tell you this at least. He’s really in love with you. Really. I think you should give him a chance.”

Before she can say anything, the dial tone is buzzing in her ear and all she can do is stare as she sees a streak flash against the night sky.

Great. Just fabulous. She’s made a fool of herself in front of the Blur and now there’s some other random guy out there pining away for her. Why did this keep happening? Oliver realizes he has feelings for her again, this guy has feelings for her, but of course, she’s head over heels in love with the ONE GUY whose feelings she’s not sure of. She bangs her head against the base of the phone before setting the receiver back in its cradle.

The storm has gotten significantly worse as they talked, but she trudges back to the Planet, cocooned in her coat, consumed by curiosity about the phantom secret Santa. She’s picking up her presents and heading back to Smallville. Where she’ll finally get that cocoa in front of her fire. Just now it won’t be nearly as relaxing since she’ll spend the entire night trying to figure out everything going on in her life.

*

Stumbling into her apartment, arms loaded with the festive booty she’s collected like a rabid pirate, she’s surprised to find things are quite different than when she’d left that evening. Candles are lit everywhere, a fire’s blazing in the small fireplace and Clark Kent is standing in her small kitchen, complete with Santa hat, cooking what smells to be an absolutely fabulous attempt at Mrs. K.’s Christmas Dinner.

“Clark!?”

The smile he flashes her is dazzling. “Merry Christmas, Lois.”

“A little help here, Smallville?”

“Oh! Of course.” He throws off his apron and sprints across the room, almost too fast for her holiday-dazed brain to track. “Wow. Someone must really like you,” he says, picking presents off her at random.

“Yeah. I. Uh. Have no idea who it is, either. What are you doing back from your assignment?”

“I told Tess to stuff it. It’s Christmas and we deserve to spend our first, together.”

“Oh, Clark.” She looks up into his eyes and sees the small spring of mistletoe hanging above his head. He follows her gaze, grabbing one of her hands and pulling her closer.

“I know you said you’re not a big fan of the holidays, but. I really am. They’ve always been a big deal at the Kents, one of the biggest, really. And I just wanted to share some of that with you. Because the best thing about Christmas this year, is that I have you.” Then he’s wrapping those big, strong arms around her and the rest of the packages fall to the floor. He kisses like a farmboy, all desperate yearning and she finds it endearing and erotic all at once. Before she really knows what’s happening, she’s undoing his tie and the first three buttons of his shirt, slipping her hand in to touch the skin of his chest. He’s hot as a Kansas summer, burning against her palm and burning her up inside. They teeter around for a minute, winding up in a heap on her couch, coat, tie, and half the buttons on his shirt flying, before she puts a hand between their lips in a desperate attempt to slow things down. “Wait. Wait!”

Clark swallows hard, breathing heavy against her palm. “Right. Taking it slow. I know. Sorry, got a little carried away there.”

She leans back down, settles herself against his chest, content to listen to his heart under her ear. “We both did. It’s fine. When did you have time to plan all this?” She absently waves a hand to include all the trimmings that have been added to her apartment -- tree, stockings, and enough decorations to blind someone.

“Oh, um. I’m the one who deleted your story. I needed an excuse to get you out of the apartment tonight so that I could surprise you.”

She swats his arm, only half seriously and laughs into the crook of his neck. “Thanks, Clark. Really. This is the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.”

“What about all those packages you were carrying when you came in?”

“Oh! Those! I have no idea who they’re from! The note wasn’t signed and I got the impression it was supposed to be some sort of surprise. Maybe it was a joke.” She’s doing her best to be nonchalant about it all, not wanting to let on anything the Blur had told her.

When he laughs, she feels it through her entire body, tingling a path from the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her head. The top of her head he promptly kisses, before trailing his lips down to the spot just behind her ear. “Those were from me, too, Lois. I wanted this to be the most special Christmas either of us had ever had.”

Quick tears sting her eyes and she buries her head in his neck again to hide the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “Clark. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for months, now. And. You don’t have to tell me you feel the same way if you don’t. I’ll understand. I just. Need you to know. I can’t hide it from you anymore. Clark, I--”

He kisses her hard and fast, slipping his tongue in and mapping her mouth, moaning when her tongue meets his and slides into his mouth. After what seems like an hour, they finally part and he says, “I love you too, Lois. Merry Christmas.”

She stares at him in disbelief, not even able to process all the things she’s feeling. “Oh, Smallville. Clark. I--”

His mouth’s on hers again before she can finish and then quick as a flash he’s saying, “We’re really going to have to work on that whole BABBLING thing. Aren’t we?”

Her eyes widen in shock as the truth of his words sinks in. “What do you . . . CLARK?!”


End file.
